


Shades of Darkness

by DebraHicks



Category: Wizards and Warriors (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28604409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: Blackpool with amnesia?  Is it real?  Who is the person offering a reward for every prince killed?  Erik must decide who he trust before more princes die.Published in "Dyad #1" 5/1/89
Relationships: Dirk Blackpool/Erik Greystone





	Shades of Darkness

"Hi." The man had moved up in silent grace through the trees. Silent, but not silent enough. The other man was ready for him. The two regarded each other across the sun warmed pine clearing. 

The blonde prince smiled at his adversary. "Blackpool, I'm surprised you actually came." He glanced around, "And alone, too." 

Dirk Blackpool smiled back, white teeth flashing against his dark features. "Why shouldn't I? You said you would be alone. And we both know that I'm more than a match for you." 

Erik Greystone brushed his hand over the hilt of his sword. "I won't waste time arguing with you, Dirk." He stepped forward reaching into his jer kin. Blackpool jumped back, a dagger flashing into his hand. Erik gave him a withering gaze before pulling out a parchment. "I'm one of the good guys. Remember." 

Dirk kicked himself mentally for giving away his nervousness. He took the rolled document without comment. Erik offered no explanation, only watched closely as the dark prince read it. Blackpool's eyes flicked up. 

"Where did you get this?" He demanded. 

"A trader from the western territories showed it by mistake to Marko." 

"I trust the man will recover." Blackpool said with an almost invisible smile. He studied the letter again, so engrossed in it that he turned his back to Erik. Erik saw the lapse but let it pass. 

"'Ten thousand in gold.'" Dirk read, "'For the death of any prince of the land.'" Again his black eyes meet with Erik's blue, "Any prince?" 

"Any prince." Erik confirmed. 

Moving over to a log Erik sat down, started rattling off names, counting on his fingers as he did. "The two of us, Justin, Geoffrey, to the east there's the three Whitetree brothers and south east of them Prince Greenwood." 

"No." Dirk interrupted. "Greenwood's dead." At the look on Erik's face he said defensively, "Well, don't look at me, I didn't do it. Word reached me about three days ago. We were negotiating a supply treaty." 

"It wouldn't be one of the seven of us." Erik rose, stood next to Black 

pool. "The posters are too wide spread. There would be too big a risk of theinstigator getting caught by his own reward." 

Blackpool nodded vaguely, deep in thought. He said softly, "There is another prince." 

Erik saw a flicker of something close to regret pass over Dirk's face.

"Another prince?" 

Dirk paced away, his black leather overcoat creaking as he moved, turnedback. "It isn't possible for him to...." 

Erik saw the glint behind Dirk, lunged at the other prince shouting, "Get down!" 

Grabbing Dirk's shoulders he attempted to spin them both toward the safety of the trees. The fair prince was fast, but not as fast as the bowman.

The bolt thudded home, catching him in the shoulder. He was suddenly on the ground, looking up at Blackpool drawing his sword. The uneasy question of who the sword was for flicked though his mind. The answer wasn't forthcoming as the darkness closed in around him. 

***** 

Erik opened his eyes carefully. It was dark, this time he was sure it wasn't just him. His shoulder throbbed but it was not unbearable. Shifting slightly he felt the tightness of a bandage, caught the scent of a healing poultice. He was laying on his back, his shoulder propped off the ground by his rolled pack. A couple of feet in front of him a small fire blazed. 

"Welcome back." A voice said from the darkness beyond the fire. 

The voice was familiar but there was something odd about it. "What happened?" Erik managed to whisper. No answer. "Blackpool?" He tried to sit up. 

"Don't. You'll only make it worse." 

Alarm bells were going off in Erik's mind, started by the strangeness in the voice. "Dirk? Are you hurt?" 

The whisper of leather answered him. The figure came forward and crouched next to the fire. "Not where you'd notice." 

Erik did notice and his throat tightened. The man sitting across from him was not the Dirk Blackpool he had known as friend and enemy. The man was pale, exhausted, blood from a scalp wound had formed a spiderweb down the right side of his face. But it was his eyes that caused Erik to stare. They were darker even than normal, puzzled and haunted. 

Erik was lost. He couldn't begin to guess what had caused such a drastic change in so short a time. Not knowing what else to say he said softly, "You need to clean that cut." 

"Can't. I used all the water on your shoulder. And I don't know where...."

He stopped. "I didn't want to leave you alone." 

The confusion Erik was experiencing was growing rapidly. "Why? You

could have just left me. You would have been blameless and my death would have solved most of your problems." 

Bewilderment lit Dirk's eyes. In an extremely distressed voice he asked.

"Are we enemies? But that isn't what I remember..." He stumbled to a stop his eyes flicking away. 

Erik stared, a startling thought growing in him. "What do you remember?" 

"Nothing!" Dirk shouted at him. He caught himself. "Well, almost nothing. I remember you pushing me, taking an arrow meant for me, then a man came at me and I killed him." He took a deep breath, drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. "Before that blank." 

Erik was not sure he believed any of this. He had heard of people forgetting things due to spells, illness, sometimes a head wound. He locked gazes with Dirk across the fire. The old defiance showed in the black eyes, maybe even a little of the old arrogance. But the hard edge was gone, lost in sad confusion. 

"Is that my name?" The dark haired man asked. "Dirk Blackpool?" 

"Yes. Prince Blackpool." 

"Prince?" Dirk seemed only slightly surprised. "Yes, that fits somehow."

The silence around them grew heavy. Gesturing down at his clothes he said, "I seem to have strange taste in summer attire." 

"You have strange taste in a lot of things." Erik quipped. 

Some of the confusion seemed to have left Dirk's expression. Erik wondered how much he should say, how soon Dirk would remember everything. His shoulder was starting to ache as the healing sleep worn off. If Dirk's memory came back suddenly it could get very interesting very quick. Without appearing to he cast a quick glance around for his sword. It was laying on the ground in front of him. 

Dirk did not miss the doubts passing over the other man. He pressed on. "You do know me." 

Erik smiled. "Yes. For a long time. I'm Prince Erik Greystone." 

"And are we enemies?" 

No getting around that one. "Yes." 

The bewilderment returned. "I don't understand. Why did you risk your life for me?" 

With a slight one shouldered shrug Erik said, "It's a long story. It would seem for the moment we are fighting a common enemy. And whether you're an enemy or not I don't like seeing a man get shot in the back from ambush." 

Dirk accepted this. After a moment of silence he reached into the fire with a stick and rolled out two lumps wrapped in leaves. "At least I didn't forget how to cook." 

He prepared the small vegetable, brought it around to the injured prince. With a gentleness that Erik would have never imagined Dirk eased him up into a better position to eat. 

"When you finish perhaps you could tell me the shortest route back to wherever it is I live." 

Erik winced. Sending Dirk back into the reaches of Vector in his

condition would be like sending a lamb into a dragon's lair. It would have been kinder to let him get shot. And there was still the posters to consider. There had been one attempt to collect the reward, there would be others. There seemed to be only one thing he could do. He realized that if he was wrong and all this was a sham he would be endangering everyone at Castle Baaldorf. 

"I don't think going home right now is such a hot idea." He tried to sound neutral about it. He explained about the posters. "There's already been one attempt on the two of us. And I'd say that neither of us is in any shape to handle anything rough." 

Dirk put a hand to the side of his head. "I'd tend to agree." He smiled across the fire at Erik. 

Erik's breath stopped. The smile was true; wide, soft and innocent. Memories of smiles once freely given during childhood made his heart ache for things long lost. He smiled back to hide the pain. He was suddenly very tried. 

With a slight slur to his voice he said, "Then it's settled. We ride to Baaldorf in the morning." 

***** 

Less than an hour on the road had Erik reconsidering his persuasive argument to Dirk that he was fit enough to ride. His shoulder throbbed and every step and every so often, and getting more so, dark spots danced before his vision. Twice he found Dirk's hand on his horses reins guiding the animal. Before he could protest Dirk would sense it and drop the lead. But he stayed close to thestallion's head. 

His horse stopped. A hand touched his knee. He forced his eyes open, hadn't realized they were closed. Dirk was on the ground beside him, concern coloring his face. 

"I'm dead tired, Erik. Why don't we stop for a short rest." 

"Only if you want to." He said with more strength than he felt. 

Dirk reached up towards Erik's elbow. Instinct took over. Erik flinched away. The Northern prince dropped his hand slowly, staring up at his companion. Erik couldn't meet the hurt expression in the black eyes. 

"Sorry." He mumbled. 

"My fault." Dirk said lightly. "I keep forgetting we're not on good terms." 

With a determined look he offered help again. Erik controlled his instincts, allowed himself to be eased down and steadied by the firm hand under his arm. They moved over to a clear spot of grass just off the forest path. Erik sat down slowly, hugging his injured arm to him. Dirk remained standing until Erik was down then like a child flopped belly down in the thick grass. He raised up on his elbows and studied Erik. 

"Can I get you anything?" 

"No, thank you, I'm fine." Erik eased himself back to rest against a tree. 

"You don't look fine." Dirk said. Erik didn't miss the touch of anger in his voice but wasn't sure what to make of it. Dirk suddenly pushed himself up, his hand went to his head as the world spun for a second. "I'm going back to that stream we passed. We need to clean that wound and re-bandage it.

Now, sit there and don't move." Dirk's voice rang with customary command despite his own discomfort. Erik merely nodded. 

He caught the sound of Dirk's horse moving away. After that there seemed to be no reason to stay awake. He let himself slip into a dark, silent place where there was nothing that demanded his attention. 

A cry of total rage woke him. There was the dull thud of bodies impacting behind him. With an painful effort he pushed away from the tree and turned. A familiar, very welcomed large figure was standing above a downed Blackpool. 

Marko's sword came up. Erik's first thought, as several times before was that Marko could not take Blackpool. Then his perspective shifted to the downed prince and he realized that Dirk was making no attempt to defend himself. His hand's were raised above his head, his sword was still sheathed. 

"No! Marko, no!" Erik put every point of his meager strength in the yell. 

The killing swing was deflected by the desperate cry. It slammed harmlessly into the ground next to the prince. Marko stepped back, glanced from Erik to Blackpool. He held the sword at Blackpool's throat. 

"Erik?" The blade drew a thin line of blood. 

"Don't hurt him." 

Marko looked at his friend in disbelief. "Did you get hit on the head or something?" He stepped toward Erik, allowing Dirk to get to his feet. "He hada knife!" 

"Of course I had a knife, you idiot!" Dirk shouted. There was surprised

anger in his voice, and a touch of fear. "How else am I suppose to cut away the old bandages?" 

Erik sighed. "Give me a hand up." 

Both Marko and Dirk stepped forward. Marko glared. Something very

close to embarrassment went over Dirk's features. He stopped and watched

Marko help his lord up. 

Catching sight of the dried blood on the silver shirt Marko cast a

venomous look at Blackpool. "Did he do that?" 

"No." It was Dirk's old familiar voice; hard, cold, haughty. He raised a hand to his throat and wiped away the tickle of blood. "I didn't." 

"It's a long story, Marko." Erik smiled. "Dirk Blackpool, I'd like you to meet my adventuring companion, Marko. Marko, Prince Blackpool." 

Marko's look said he thought Erik had completely lost touch with reality. Dirk's reaction was not as predictable. Erik watched Dirk's anger

melt into an almost wistful, almost sad look. Dirk felt Erik's gaze, used the excuse of picking up the dropped knife to turn away. He flipped the ornate weapon over and handed it hilt first to Marko. 

"Here. He'll feel better if you're the one with the knife." 

Erik frowned, unsure of why the statement hurt. With a quick glance at Marko, hoping he'd understand, Erik said, "No, go ahead. You're good at it." 

There was a sound of protest from Marko but he didn't vocalize it. Dirk

smiled at Erik, "The water is on my horse. I'll be right back." He called back over his shoulder. "You'd better sit down and explain to Marko what's going on." 

"When I find out, I will." Erik mumbled to himself. Easing back to the

ground he started the story with the bowman. 

The bandaging was a careful process. Marko stayed close the whole time, never once taking his eyes off Blackpool. The tension between them was tangible, though it seemed that Dirk was trying to ignore it. 

"Done." He finally announced. 

Erik moved slightly, testing the restriction of the tight cloth. "Thank you. That feels much better." 

Dirk smiled but it faded quickly. He glanced from Marko to Erik. "I guess this is where we part company." 

"Looks like." Marko said cheerfully. Even more than Blackpool's presence Marko was uneasy with Erik's seemingly complete trust in the man. 

Sharp regret hit Erik. "I don't think..." He stopped, grabbed Marko's arm.

"The posters! Did you find Justin..." 

"Come on, Erik, do you think I'd be here if I hadn't found your brother and warned him." Marko tried to sound offended. 

"Brother?" Dirk mumbled to himself. He turned to Erik. "We had been talking about brothers." 

"Yes." Erik said warily. 

Dirk shifted. "Do I have a brother?" 

The gentle questioning tone took Marko by surprise. "Do you...well, of course you have a brother. Geoffrey." 

"Those posters?" Dirk paced away then back. "Does he know about them?" 

Erik and Marko exchanges quick looks. "I don't know." Erik answered. 

Purpose overrode Dirk's confusion. "I'd better go warn him." He took three long determined strides toward his horse, stopped. "I don't know where heis." 

"Marko?" Erik inquired. His friend seemed to always know where just about everyone was. 

There was a moment's hesitation from the large man. "He's facing Justin on the western frontier." 

"Directions?" Dirk demanded. 

"No." Erik said quickly. "It's through our territory. You'd be captured or killed before you could get there." 

Helpless anger flooded Dirk expression. "Well, I have to do something. He's my brother." 

"You sure have gained a lot of brotherly love since the last time I saw you and ol' Jeff..." Erik hit Marko in the ribs with a fast elbow. 

"You can't go. But..." Erik smiled at Marko. 

"Erik, I just rode three days back from there!" 

"Then you know the way." Erik smiled even wider, slapped him on the back. "And with your shapely connections you can get word to Geoffrey without crossing the lines." 

Dirk stepped forward. "Please." 

The sincerity in the request caused Marko to stare, first warily then with a slight smile. "Okay. I'm a sucker for family." 

Dirk grabbed his hand, shook hard. "Thank you." 

Marko jerked away. "Don't do that!" He walked to his horse, dragging Erik with him. "Be careful. I've got a bad feeling about this." 

Wincing at the grip Marko had on his arm Erik said, "Trust me. I know

what I'm doing." 

Looking a little doubtful Marko mounted his bay without further comment. With a sharp nod to his prince he galloped off. Erik turned, almost collided with Dirk. Instinct again sent his hand toward the gold sword. Dirk saw the move, stepped back two paces. 

"He's a good man." He nodded toward the retreating figure. 

"The best." Erik said proudly. "He'll get the message to your brother." 

"Sit down." Dirk commanded. "I'll fix lunch then we'll ride on to ....uh." 

"Castle Baaldorf." Erik supplied. 

"Right. Baaldorf." Under his breath Dirk added. "Silly name." 

***** 

"Did you get hit on the head or something?" The King demanded. 

"I'm getting tired of that line." Erik mumbled, only loud enough for Dirk to hear. He hoped to ease the mood but he could sense the tension in his dark companion. At Erik's suggestion Dirk had changed clothes to make him look less menacing. He now worn one of Eric's silver shirts and a gray cape to replace his own black attire. While Erik felt this was a great improvement where menacing was concerned he had to admitted that the man looked very good in black. 

"He belongs in the dungeon." The King continued. The fact that Dirk's

sword lay at his feet made no impression. 

"Sir, he saved my life. He gave up his sword willingly before entering the castle." 

Blackpool stood back watching the exchange with an innocent detachment, as if he couldn't figure out what the fuss was about. Lost in thought he stared about the lavish, impressive hall. It was a full minute before he realized that the King was addressing him. 

With the look of a daydreaming student just caught by the teacher he

asked meekly. "Sorry. What was the question?" 

King Baaldorf sighed. Erik raised a hand to cover his grin. "Nevermind." The King thundered. "Guards!" 

Erik's color deepened. Anger flared in his voice. "Your Highness...." A hand tugged at his sleeve. He turned to Dirk. 

"No, Erik, he's right." 

"I am?" Baaldorf questioned. 

"He is?" Erik echoed. 

"Yes." Dirk said evenly. "He has no reason to trust me. He has to lock

me up." 

"But I gave you my word." Erik said softly. Something in him hurt at the thought of Dirk imprisoned. 

"You did your best." Dirk said helpfully. 

Baaldorf stood unmoving, judging the interplay before him. The icy glare in his eyes faded a bit. Below him Erik nodded his defeat, gripped Dirk's shoulder. "I'm sorry." He looked up at the King. "Call off the guards, sir. I'll escort the prison...Blackpool down myself." 

"Hm, well." The King waved and the guards that had silently appeared disappeared the same way. 

"The dungeons really aren't so bad." Erik was saying. "Not like ..." 

"Not like mine." Dirk smiled warily. 

"I'll bring you an extra blanket." Erik finished lamely. He faced the King again. "By your leave, your Highness." 

"No." Baaldorf hummphed. "I've changed by mind. King's are allowed to do that. You can put him in the room next to yours." At their quick smiles he barked. "But I want a guard there at night. And he is your responsibility!" 

"Yes, sir! Thank you." Erik snapped back. He bowed, took three steps backward, turned and started toward the double doors in long strides. He was almost there when he realized that Dirk was still standing in front of the throne staring around the room. Without missing a step he shifted into reverse; five steps backward, spun, three steps forward, bowed, grabbed Dirk and drug him toward the door. 

"Erik?" Dirk questioned. "Have I been here before?" 

"Yes." Erik hissed. "Now keep walking before he changes his mind

again." 

***** 

"Have you been hit on the head or something?" Ariel's high pitched voice reached Erik just as he reached for the door. He put up a hand to stop Dirk.

"You want me to eat breakfast with that...that...heel?" There was the sound of breaking dishes. 

"Fair Ariel?" Dirk questioned. 

"Uh, yeah. How hungry are you?" Erik asked. Another breaking dish accented his question. "We could go on into town and get you those new clothes now." 

"I'd like to meet her." Dirk was enjoying the other man's obvious embarrassment. Another crash sounded. "Maybe later." 

There had been a lot of muttering when they had first come in the tavern.

Now it had turned to merely a lot of staring. Both princes ignored it. Erik bit into his meat pie, watched Dirk's nervous fingering of the package he was carrying. Dirk was deep in thought, unaware of his amusement. 

"Is it going to be like this everywhere?" He asked suddenly. 

"Like what?" The hurt, lost-little-boy look that had been steadily fading from Dirk's expression was now back full force. An incredible urge to reach across and hug the man hit Erik. Memories of holding a dark-haired friend hurt in a child's game came back to him. He fought the urge away. 

Catching the concern in the blonde prince's words Dirk shrugged.

"Nothing. It's not important. Should we try going back to the castle now?" 

Erik let the other question pass. "Yeah, let's." 

They stood. A dagger thunked into the chair where Blackpool had been. He made a grab for his sword, found only empty belt. Angry confusion twisted his face. Three men shoved chairs aside, closed with raised swords toward both princes. 

Erik lunged forward pass Dirk to take the first parry, shattering one of the opponents swords as he did. The other two spread out to come at him from both sides. The one with the shattered blade drew a second dagger and advanced on Dirk. Letting loose a string of curses at his helplessness Dirk retreated, desperately looking for a weapon. 

The man thrust, Dirk evaded the blade with a quick twist. Backing slowly he bumped into the bar, his hand encountered a long necked wine bottle. A strong flick of the wrist smashed it against the oak bar leaving him a jagged glass weapon. With a slow growing, unpleasant smile he waited, judged the man's next move and caught the pirate's wrist with a nasty slash. The man yelped, dropped his dagger. He made a futile grab for it but Dirk's foot landed on it first and one look into the black eyes sent the man scurrying from the tavern. 

In one move Erik parried a slash from one opponent, hit the other man with the hilt of his long sword. Spinning to put his back to the wall he forced his opponents together. They swung together but Erik's long sword caught the other two, sparks screaming along its length. With a yell of triumph Erik pushed with all his strength, flipping both men back over a table. They hit the dirt floor, started a mad scrabble for the door. 

"Not so fast." Dirk yelled. He flicked the retrieved dagger underhand into the door frame nearest their heads. They stopped short. 

Erik stepped up to them. "A simple question." 

"For our simple friends." Dirk added. 

"Where did you get the poster?" 

Silence. Very slowly Dirk removed the dagger from the door frame. "Did you hear the prince?" The glint in Dirk's eyes grew brighter. The knife closed on the man's throat. Erik glanced from the dagger to Dirk. 

"Dirk?" The knife continued to move. Dirk's smile sent a shiver down Erik's spine. "Dirk?" 

"Answer." Dirk whispered. 

"In the northern providences!" The man yelped as steel touched flesh. The knife stayed in place. "From who?" 

"It was nailed to a tree." 

The smile went a little colder, the knife moved closer. 

"Honest!" 

The knife pressed. Erik's hand shot out. "No!" 

Dirk's hard gaze shifted to Erik, regarded him coldly. Erik's hand tightened. Very slowly the diamond glint melted. Dirk dropped his hand, turned away. 

"Get out of this tavern. Get out of this town. Get out of this kingdom."

Erik commanded. The two bountymen fled. 

Without meeting Erik's troubled eyes Dirk retrieved his dropped package.

Erik heard the long draw of breath, saw the tense shoulders relax. When Dirk turned back to him his face was calm. "We'd better look at your bandage. You probably shifted it playing hero." 

Erik smiled, consciously ignoring what he had just seen in the other man. 

***** 

Dinner, at first was a challenge to everyone's nerves and manners. Even

the queen, a most gentle and gracious lady found herself hard pressed to make small talk with one's worst enemy. By evenings end all that had changed. The wide-eyed innocence that covered Dirk's quick wit soon put everyone at ease, especially Ariel. Erik could not remember an evening he'd enjoyed as much in a long time. 

As the rulers retired to their chamber Ariel insisted on giving Prince Blackpool the royal tour. They finished up in the great hall. Twelve magnificent tapestries hung along the north and south walls by gold chains.

The weavings had been ancient before the castle was built. Each told an old legend or parable that Ariel took great delight in recounting. Erik had followed the prince and princess first out of slight concern, though for which he wasn't sure. Now he sat on one of the marble benches while Ariel circled the hall telling tales. He was not happy about the way Dirk kept smiling at the beautiful princess. And was even less happy about his reaction to it. Just as he was about to give it up and leave Dirk's eyes caught his over Ariel's head. 

He smiled, winked and silently mouthed, "Does she ever stop?" 

Erik stifled a laugh. Feeling better, and not as left out he moved to join them by the last tapestry. "What is this one about?" Dirk asked in a tone that said he knew he was going to hear anyway. 

"Oh, I don't like this one." Ariel frowned. 

Dirk and Erik both looked up. Most of the works were of glorious battles, with real and unreal enemies, or regal parades and pageants. Vivid golds, rich blues, scarlet, purple and green touched each of the other eleven. But not this one. It was done in muted grays and somber browns, highlighted by black and crimson. Two figures were locked in combat; a light-haired prince in gold crown with blue-tinged sword up raised against a figure in black robes who wielded a flashing crystal. Between them, on the ground lay a princess in faded silver, overlaid by crimson splashes. 

"What is it about?" Dirk asked, serious now. 

Ariel made a face. "You don't want to know." 

"Tell me!" Dirk shouted harshly. Ariel flinched back. To his side Dirk caught Erik's surprise. He reached out, took Ariel's hand, kissed it gallantly. "Please, tell me. I really wish to hear the story." 

"It's sad." Ariel said, staring into the black eyes. "It's about the only way to kill a wizard with a mortal weapon." 

She broke the spell by pulling away with a graceful spin, nearly tripped.

"Silly story. 'To kill a wizard," she recited like a school girl, "'With a mortal weapon you must cover the blade with true loves blood.' Isn't that just icky." 

Erik picked up the story, feeling it too noble a tale to let Ariel make light of. "The Princess Alanda threw herself on her fiance's sword when he was challenged by the wizard Geo. She saved him and his kingdom." 

"That is sad." Dirk said vaguely. He remained staring at the picture for another moment then with an almost visible effort he turned to Erik and smiled, eyes bright with mirth. "I hope this wizard Trayquil is in better humor than our friend in the picture." 

Delighted every time Dirk smiled Erik said, "I'm sure you'll get along." 

Ariel imposed herself between them, miffed at not being the center of attention. "I don't want any more talk about silly old men." She smiled slyly. "Let's go raid the kitchen. I want another piece of chocolate cake." 

***** 

Erik sensed the presence, was moving before he was completely awake. He hit the floor on the side opposite the door. His sword, always on the bedstead flashed into his hand as he crouched. 

"I'm sorry.." Came a shaky voice. 

Erik straightened a little, kept the sword raised before him. He came around the bed, lit the lantern. Dirk Blackpool stood near the door looking pale and shaken. He held his hands out to his sides as Erik approached. Very carefully Erik checked him over for weapons, seeing none he lowered his blade a fraction. 

"What are you doing here, Dirk?" He demanded roughly. 

Dirk hesitated. "I...I heard you cry out. I thought something was wrong."

When Erik didn't reply he added. "I guess it was a bad dream." 

"How did you get pass the guard?" Erik demanded. He didn't want to think about the dream he had been having. It was a familiar one. He was fighting Dirk, only this time Dirk had smiled at him and dropped his sword. His thrust had taken Dirk under the ribs, splattering warm blood on his hands. It was then that he had cried out and awoken. 

"My guard, fell asleep hours ago." There was a moment of wary hesitation. "I couldn't sleep. I keep seeing people, faces, only I don't know them." He turned away, unwilling to have Erik see him upset. 

Erik's caution vanished at the sight of the desolate figure before him. He swallowed, tentatively stepped closer and put his arm around Dirk's dropped shoulders. "It'll be okay. Tomorrow we'll see the wizard Trayquil and he'll sort it all out. He'll help you get your memory back." 

Dirk wenched away. "I don't want to remember!" He shouted. He wrapped his arms around his chest, turned away again. Very softly he said, "I've seen the looks in everyone's eyes. They all hate me. In town, Marko,

Ariel....you." 

It cut Erik like a dagger. "No." 

"Yes." 

Stepping in front of him Erik reached out with a slightly shaking hand, raised Dirk's chin, forced pain-filled eyes to confront him. "Yes." Erik

admitted. "But not now." 

Dirk had no answer, was too captivated by bright blue eyes to reply. Very

slowly, almost on its own Erik's hand moved in a caress up Dirk's cheek. His eyes roved down the front of the partially open robe. He stopped abruptly, his hand grabbed Dirk's shoulder. 

"Where's the monocle!" He snapped. 

Dirk jumped, the oddly gentle moment broken. "The what?" 

Urgency edged Erik's voice. "The monocle! The crystal thing...pendant?" 

Looking puzzled by the blond's worry, Dirk said, "I took it off. I didn't want to sleep..." 

Erik's grip tightened on both shoulders, stopped just short of shaking him. "Where?" 

Dirk's hand slipped into the pocket of the robe. Without statement he pulled the monocle out and held it toward Erik. Erik heaved a large sigh of relief. He picked up the chain, avoided touching the crystal. He slipped it over Dirk's head, running his hands through the soft hair as he did. 

"Don't ever, ever, take that off." He said sternly. 

"What is it?" Dirk picked it up, turned it over. 

"A wizard's monocle. Vector's to be precise." He ran a hand gently down Dirk's arm. "And what he'd do to you to get it back..." He shuddered visibly. 

"Maybe it would be better if you kept it." 

"No! It's your only protection against Vector." 

Dirk nodded. "Okay." His eyes meet Erik's again. "Whatever you say Erik." 

The impulse that took Erik was not unexpected. The feeling of warmth in his chest and a certain tightness in his groin had been steadily growing since that first smile across the fire. He gave into the feelings, stepped to Dirk and brushed a light kiss over his lips. One hand moved up to his neck, toyed with the fine hair. The other slowly outlined one prefect cheek. It was a brief flash of heat. Erik pulled back, his hands stayed in place and looked at Dirk with a slight fear at what he would find. 

Ebony eyes were wide with surprise. "Why did you do that?" He asked

shakily. 

A sly, sultry smile played along Erik's face. "Because I've wanted to for a long time." His hands slid down the broad shoulders, slipped easily under the loose gold robe, began a sure exploration of the well-muscled form. A shiver went through the body under his eager hands. 

"Do you want me to stop?" Erik whispered. 

Smouldering eyes looked up. Dirk moved, pressed his whole body against Erik while wrapping both arms about his waist, pulling them tightly together.

Through the thin silk of the robe Erik could feel his fast raising erection.

Erik moved them toward the bed, untied the robe with a quick flick of his hand, shoved it away from the willing prince. With one hand still holding Dirk he did the same to his sash and robe. As it fell away Dirk moaned softly, tried to move even nearer. Erik held him away. 

"Easy. Easy." He laughed at the man's eagerness even as he fought to keep his own under control. "I want to look for a minute." 

Erik ran an approving eye over the finely toned body before him. Broad shoulders tapered down to a slender waist and flat hips. A light layer of soft black hair covered his chest, became intriguingly thicker around the heavy balls and now fully risen shaft. A slight blush rose in Dirk's face at the intense survey. 

"You're beautiful." Erik whispered. "Like a good war horse." 

"Spun gold and ivory." Dirk hung his head and mumbled. 

"What?" Erik questioned, moving closer. 

"You. You're the color of spun gold and ivory." Dirk said it softly, as if reluctant to speak of such things. 

Erik's hands started down Dirk's back, kneading the slightly tense muscles, encountering unexpected roughness. He turned Dirk around before he could protest. 

"Good Lord!" Erik breathed, wincing. The prince's back was criss-crossed with old whip scars. 

Dirk spun back. "I don't remember how I got them," he said defensively, unsure of what Erik's reaction would be. 

Erik's reaction was to hug him hard to his chest. Tears burned in his eyes, were strong in his voice as he soothed his companion. "It doesn't matter. It's past. And I won't let it happen again." 

The kiss this time was met with impatient lips and was neither brief nor light. Erik's tongue explored carefully the depths offered to him. A moan of pleasure sounded and he was unsure of which of them made it. He broke the kiss reluctantly, anxiously, eased Dirk back in the bed. With a growing smile he stretched out beside him, continued his searching. 

"Erik," Dirk said huskily. "I've never done this before." 

"How do you know if you can't remember?" Erik kidded. One hand was

now spinning slow circles around the dark chest, never quiet touching the taut nipples. The body under his hands tensed. Erik looked up. "Do you mean you've never done this before with another man?" 

Dirk's eyes were squeezed shut. "No..I've had others..but never someone..." he sighed, "Never had someone who wanted...." 

Harsh, cold images of unwilling, bound bedmates flashed into Erik's mind. The shocked outrage came way to pity. How could anyone who processed such an overwhelming sexuality not have found someone to love? A possible explanation flowed into his thoughts. Trust. You had to trust someone to relinquish control so totally. 

Erik smiled. "A virgin, huh?" 

Dirk pushed up on both elbows, "I'd hardly call it that." 

Very seriously Erik said, "But true, in all the important ways." 

The slight frown on Dirk's face faded back into quiet pleasure as Erik leaned forward, kissed him ever so gently again. Soft hands sent fire along his nerves as Erik's mouth pressed tight, seeking entry. 

Hesitantly Dirk's hands moved up into the fine gold hair, combed through it. Erik's kisses moved across his face, started down the prefect throat. Dirk gasped, reached for Erik, tried to pull him down, relieve the fast mounting pressure. Erik held his distance, moved the searching hands off his back. 

"My show." His voice was hungry. 

Dirk growled in protest, hips arching off the satin covered bed. Erik's mouth moved across the shoulders, down the dark body, finally rimmed a dusky nipple. Another soft cry escaped Dirk, was echoed by Erik. Vaguely Erik realized they were moving too fast, that his attention to Dirk was sending silver fire through his own veins. With a final gentle nip he released his lover. 

"Slow, relax." He whispered, meaning the words for himself as well. His hands floated over the hips, along the soft inner thighs, brought another hard thrust from Dirk. He slide further down the bed, positioned himself so that when he took Dirk he would be able to watch his face. 

Dirk raised up on his elbows. "Not fair." He panted, "I can't touch you." 

Erik smiled between loving nips across Dirk's stomach. "You will."

His hand rubbed though the black hair, lightly brushed the shaft. "Beautiful. The color of fine wine." 

With a long sigh he ran a velvet tongue over the tip of the dark cock. Dirk's hands entangled themselves in Erik's soft hair. Erik slipped his mouth over the wonderful heat, took it in one move deep in his throat and eased it out. 

"Erik..." Dirk's hands tightened. 

Erik's eyes sparkled as he watched his virgin lover's expression; head thrown back, eyes hazy, prefect lips parted, breath coming light and fast. The cock twitched on his tongue. He moved in two long swift strokes, up and down and knowingly pushed Dirk over the edge. There was a strangled cry, hips thrust up and warm, honey thick liquid flooded his throat. Erik sucked, kept up the pressure until every drop was his. Under his rubbing hands Dirk wentlimp. 

Erik released him with a playful pat then kissed his way back up the completely relaxed body. Dirk's eyes were hooded, features even more beautiful in total satisfaction. Kisses flowed across his lips, over each eye. 

"That was wonderful." He muttered. "I may never move again." 

A husky laugh escaped Erik. Dirk did move, he rolled over to Erik, took the fair face firmly in both hands and found the energy to kiss him deeply. As he started to lay back his thigh brushed Erik's impressive erection. 

Dirk met the blue eyes. With a soft smile he ran one hand down the

blonde's chest, touched the cheek again with the other. "Now, it's your turn." 

Erik rubbed against the hand holding him. "Only if you want to." 

There was no mistaking the intent in the smoky eyes. "Very much." His smiled faded a bit. "But I'm not..." 

"Just do what you think would feel good." Erik advised. 

There was a moments hesitation before Dirk's hands and mouth started a gentle search of his new world, a world centered on the gold prince pressed to him. Erik growled low, encouraging Dirk on. His touch became firmer, surer.

When Erik rolled on to his back instinct and fast learning guided Dirk's mouth over his stomach, down to his groin. His hand fit around the hard shaft as if it belonged there while he gave a tentative slow lick at the rose colored head. 

"Dirk?" The question was low. "Only if you're sure." 

With a wicked smile Dirk took the hot shaft eagerly between his lips, ran his tongue around it as it settled in his mouth. Erik bucked, uncontrollably, choking Dirk. He pulled back but did not give up his firm procession. Dirk began to move eagerly on the silky hardness. 

With a small shift Erik moved sideways until his hand touched Dirk's half-risen member. Dirk faltered as his own fire was rekindled with a few experienced moves of Erik's hand. With a slight sense of relief Dirk realized that Erik was still in control, setting the stride with the strokes on his own cock. He matched the smooth rhythm, let the heat build to almost painful. At the last second he gave up procession of the solid flesh, controlling his cries as the contractions shook him long and deep. His mouth lowered again, tight around the other. He felt Erik's explosion start. He tried to take it all but gagged, the fluid spilling out into the curly gold hair. 

It was several minutes before either moved. Dirk pushed away, reached for his robe, stood. Erik rolled lazily over, winced at his sore shoulder and

watched Dirk in puzzlement. "Dirk, what are you doing?" 

"Going back to my room." 

Erik felt like he had missed something. "Why?" 

Dirk turned to face him. "I'm sorry. I wanted it to be good for you and I messed..." 

The blonde prince laughed, took the other's wrist and pulled him back into the wide bed. "Sometimes, Dirk you can be so slow." He embraced him, stroked the scarred back. "It was good. Because it was you." 

The tense body relaxed into the tight arms. "You're not disappointed with

me?" 

The only answer he got was a long kiss. 

"I guess not." He breathed when the kiss broke. "What about my guard?" 

"I'll take care of everything tomorrow." Erik reached over, spread the

covers over them. "Sleep now." 

As Dirk snuggled in close to him Erik was siezed by a vague sense of unease. The whole event had been sudden, not exactly unexpected but his own wishes had barely been known to him before he had acted on them. Silently he admitted to himself that he had always cared for Dirk, in between hating him.

But what happened when Dirk became Prince Blackpool again? 

Pushing the depressing thoughts away he kissed the dark hair tickling his

chin and forced himself to sleep. 

***** 

"You want the good news or the bad news first?" Tryquil asked testily. 

Erik considered the question. He was not sure of how he would interrupt any news about Dirk. "Let's have the bad first." 

"I can't tell if Blackpool's lying or not." He shrugged. "There was some damage done by the sword cut. Or he could be using Vector's monocle to shield himself from my probes. He could be lying though his teeth." 

Erik didn't know whether this was good or bad. He did know it wasn't any help but declined to say so. "And the good?" 

"I got rid of all the posters, except the one you have." 

Erik nodded. "That still doesn't get us any closer to finding out who put them out." 

"Not my problem." Tray waved. "Catch you later." 

"Wait!" 

"What now?" 

"Is there any..do you have any suggestions on what to do with Dirk?" 

"Not a one." He vanished, leaving a very perplexed Erik. 

Dirk came to his feet as Erik emerged. "Well?" He demanded. 

Erik tried to make his smile seem reassuring. "He wasn't much help." Heglanced at the kitchen maid peaking at Dirk from the doorway. "Let's gosomewhere quieter." 

***** 

The sun was warm, the clouds white and the piece of grass that spun between his fingers very green. Erik tried to concentrate on any of them but found his eyes drawn unerringly to the well muscled body bathing in the crystal pool a few yards away. 

On the long ride from the castle Erik had realized that Dirk was not a lost puppy he could just adopt. He was a Prince of Camarand and as such deserved a change at remembering who and what he was. The pain it caused would have to be lived with. So Erik had brought him here, to an old childhood haunt in the fearful hope that it would spur some lost memories. There had been none so far. 

The Northern prince left the pool, moved towards him, chasing all thoughts away for a minute as Erik watched. Dirk paused, much to his regret to pull on his breeches, then with a contented sigh stretched out in the warm grass next to Erik. After a minute he rolled onto his side and threw a arm across Erik's chest. Erik fought away the inexplicable lump in his throat. He turned to put them face to face. 

"Dirk?" 

"Humm?" Was the lazy reply. 

"What do you remember about the fight, the one when I was shot?" 

Dirk's eyes came open. He studied Erik, saw the eager searching in the sky blue eyes. "Why?" 

"Before I was hit you were about to say something about the posters." 

Dirk sat up, pulled his knees to his chest. "I don't remember." 

Erik followed him up. "You don't remember, or you don't want to try?"

The strong shoulders tightened. "Please, I know it's difficult but it seemed important at the time. We were talking about the ..." 

"The princes of Camarand," Dirk said softly. 

"Yes." Erik ran a slow, encouraging hand along Dirk's arm. 

"And I said there was another prince." Dirk's hand went to his head, more from habit than pain. "I don't know! Please, Erik..." 

Dirk's distress was like a physical blow to Erik. His resolve to keep pushing melted. He pulled Dirk into his arms. "It's all right. You'll remember but it won't matter. It'll be all right. Nothing will change." 

Dirk's arms went a little tighter around him. With his head buried against Erik's board shoulder Dirk whispered, "It had something to do with the scars." 

"Don't think about it." Erik frowned. He stood, hauled the slightly larger man up with him, tugged at his hand. "Come on, last one in is the son of a rook." 

As Dirk turned to make a break for the water the hand fell away from his arm. Dirk turned. Erik was staring off the rise at a fast approaching rider, eyes darkening. He had left word not to be disturbed unless it was a dire emergency. From the rider's haste it was. 

They waited together. Dirk glanced at Erik's worried face before reaching for the rest of his clothes. By the time he had finished strapping on the sword the rider had reined in hard and dismounted. 

He bowed to Erik, "Your Highness..." He was panting. 

"Take a deep breath, Troy," Erik suggested helpfully. "Now try again." 

"We received a message from Castle Blackpool." Erik's eyes narrowed.

"Prince Blackpool is holding Marko..." 

"Prince Blackpool?!" Erik and Dirk chimed together. 

"...for ransom in the amount of one hundred thousand dracmas." 

It was unavoidable. Erik and the guard both turned to stare at Dirk. 

"Well, don't look at me!" Dirk shouted. "I've been here the whole time. I'm not the only Blackpool." 

"This isn't Geoffrey's style," Erik stated flatly. 

"And it's mine?" Dirk demanded. The guard stepped forward, in front of Erik, hand on sword hilt. Erik held his arm back. Dirk took two steps back, eyes flashing, his hand going toward his sword. He saw the dismay in Erik's eyes, the hate in the guard's. He turned away, his hand dropping from the sword. 

Long, tense silence filled the space. Erik patted the guard on the back.

"Thanks, Troy, tell them I'll be back..." 

"Sir, I shouldn't leave..." 

"Go on. It'll be all right." 

As the guard rode back toward the castle Erik watched Dirk. All the doubts resurfaced. He remembered the cruelty, the deceit, the hate that this man was capable of. But each instance was overlaid with sound of his laughter and the warmth of his smile. At that moment Erik hated the world more than he would have ever thought possible. 

The rigid figure straightened. "So the charade is over," Dirk's voice was hard. "No more make-believe." 

Fear, completely different from any he had ever known, clutched at Erik's chest. He found the courage to ask, "What charade?" 

Blackpool whirled. His voice was cold, controlled, wrong. He avoided Erik's eyes. "What charade! The one in which we try to pretend we're something we're not, something more than we can ever be." He pulled up to his full height. "I'm Prince Dirk Blackpool, ruler of the North. I have armies, weapons, a wizard who would see me dead and responsibilities." He stepped forward in long, powerful strides. "And you're Prince Erik Greystone, my mortal enemy, soon to be ruler of the south, with armies, weapons, a princess to marry ...." 

The stiffness left the body, the over-bright eyes met Erik's. "And a friend to rescue." He reached out, was comforted to see that Erik did not drawback, touched the fair cheek. "We cannot be lovers, or even friends. We both know that." 

Erik took the hand from his face and kissed it. He swallowed around the tightness in his throat. The only thing that ran though his thoughts was that he had gotten Dirk back and was now going to lose him again. He grabbed the man, held on in desperate pain, hiding the tears against the strong shoulders. 

Only when the breath was even in his chest and the tears dry did he pull

away. He tried to smile. Dirk leaned forward, held his face, kissed him lovingly, gently. 

Affection made Erik's voice catch. "I think I may have a plan." 

Dirk's smile was sad. "I had a feeling you might." 

***** 

The door creaked open. Erik sat up. He had been waiting patiently for the intruder. Dirk came across to the bed, slid silently under the quilt and into Erik's arms. They lay together without speaking, revealing in the press of flesh against flesh. The cresses, the kisses were more shared this time. The arousal slow, building like a summer shower. But beneath the warmth was the slight feeling of desperation. 

Erik started a slow dance of kisses down Dirk's chest, slipped his hand

between the silk sheets and Dirk's firm ass. The other hand teased along the inside of his thighs, traced a finger the length of his shaft. Dirk muttered softly as Erik kissed the hard cock lightly before taking it completely in his mouth. A hand in his hair tugged him away. 

"No, Erik.." Erik looked up. Dirk expression was confused, and endearingly shy. "I want you, Erik. I want...to be one with you." 

The request caused a slow smile to light Erik's face. He moved up and kissed Dirk deeply. Dirk's hand trailed down the white skin, rubbed hard

against Erik's erection. 

"Please, Erik, this once. Tomorrow ..." 

"Hush, no mention of anything outside these walls tonight." He ran a hand down Dirk's back, down between the firm buttocks, rimmed around the sensitive center. Dirk gasped, rolled more on his side, one leg coming forward to make it easier for Erik to reach. Erik laughed at the smooth, natural move. 

With one hand still rubbing Dirk's cock he used the other to tease and entice until it was Dirk who pushed himself back onto Erik's saliva slicked fingers. Clamping down on his own rushing emotions Erik's fingers slipped slowly in and out until he felt the strong muscles relax completely. Only then did he move across Dirk to stretch out along his back. Very slowly, with infinite care he joined his body to the dark one next to him. Dirk cried out as Erik filled him, his hands digging into the sheets, anchoring him to reality. He arched back against the fair prince. Erik almost gave way to the wonderful heat and tightness surrounding him. He moved out a little and back in. 

"No. No." Dirk pleaded. He reached back and stilled Erik's hips. 

Panic hit Erik. "Am I hurting you? I'll stop..." 

"No. I just want to feel you there, part of me, within me, for a minute." 

Fighting his eagerness Erik let the warmth in the lusty voice fill him. He held still until it was Dirk who moved away and back against him. Then they were both moving, building the heat and friction, holding back, prolonging the pleasure. Dirk came first, crying out, body going rigid, even as Erik's fire filled him and the blonde prince's voice sounded hoarsely against his neck. 

It was several minutes before either moved. Erik slipped free, rolled Dirk over and into his arms. Dirk's limp arm went around his seducer. He kissed the chest he was nestled against then looked up into the impossibly bright blue eyes. Erik smiled down at him. 

"Erik, before tomorrow..." 

A finger covered his lips. "Inside these walls, remember." 

Looking slightly distressed, hoping Erik hadn't noticed Dirk kissed him lightly and nodded. He cuddled closer, toyed for a few minutes with the curls of hair on Erik's chest before dozing off. 

Erik was again left alone with a sleeping lover and troubling thoughts.

He had not argued with Dirk at the spring. When Dirk had touched his face, kissed him so softly he had known then that he loved this man. And he could not, would not lose him again. Somehow, after they had rescued Marko they would figure something out.

***** 

Blackpool's stallion snorted, pawed the ground impatiently. They were close to home and he knew it. He skittered sideways, away from Erik's gray gelding. 

"A bit nervous, isn't he?" Erik joked. 

"A bit like his rider I would say." Dirk added dryly. 

"There's nothing to worry about." Erik said defensively, "It's a good plan." 

"It's a good plan that could get you killed." Dirk countered. 

They rode on a few more minutes in silence. Erik cleared his throat. "Dirk, we're getting close. You'd better tie me up." 

Dirk halted his prancing black mount. Very slowly he dismounted, pulled

a short length of rope from his bags and went around behind his still mounted companion. His hands shook slightly as he looped the ropes around the slender wrists. 

"Dirk, you've got to make them tighter. One good shake and they'll fall

off." 

"I don't want to hurt you," Dirk mumbled. 

"It has to be convincing. It's only for a short time." 

With a deep sigh Dirk pulled the ropes tight. Running a teasing hand down Erik's thigh when he finished brought a smile to both drawn faces. Dirk reached up and pulled Erik down to him by the chain around his cape, kissed him hard. When he released him they were both flushed. 

"This might be fun sometime," Dirk leered. 

"Always knew you were kinky," Erik joked. 

He opened his mouth to ease Dirk's worry with more kidding. Dirk jerked him roughly down again. Before he could protest a coarse gag was shoved into his mouth and knotted hard behind him. Bewildered blue eyes stared down at the prince in black. 

Dirk looked up at him, eyes neutral. "I'm sorry, Erik but the plan has changed. And some of the changes would not meet with your approval." 

Erik began to struggle against the coarse, tight ropes. Strong arms reached around him, held him still. "Don't," Dirk commanded. "You'll only get hurt. It's a good plan, Erik. But there is more in that castle than you know about." 

The momentary panic Erik had felt over his and Marko's future suddenly turned to even stronger panic over what Dirk had planned and the danger it would mean to his lover. Something of what he was thinking reached his eyes. 

Dirk rubbed the back of his hand along the fair cheek. "Remember your part of the plan and everything will work out." 

***** 

"Vector!" Dirk roared. "Vector!" 

"What is the meaning..." The wizard froze in mid-stride and mid-sentence at the sight of the black and silver clad figure dominating the entrance hall. "Dirk? But..." 

"But what Vector?" Dirk said, suddenly soothing. "Surprised to see me?" 

The wizard recovered quickly. "Overjoyed is all, your majesty. We had word that you were being held by Greystone." He nodded toward the bound and gagged prince. "I see that situation has been reversed. You've brought a guest." 

"I have brought," Dirk gloated. "a play thing. And I will do as I please with him later." He jerked hard on the rope around Erik's neck, spun him roughly forward and to his knees. "For now, to the dungeon with him." 

Vector smiled sweetly, snapped his fingers and two guards rushed into the room, dragged the Southern prince out. The last thing Erik heard before the heavy oak door closed was Dirk demanding to know why Marko had been taken without his permission. Vector's answering laugh chilled Erik more than the dungeon corridors. 

The dungeon was just as he remembered it from the too many unpleasant times he had been a guest of Blackpool. He was puzzled and very worried over whatever it was that Dirk was acting so mysterious about. At the moment all he could think to do was go along with the original plan. With a little effort he reached down behind him to the knife hidden in his boot. The ropes parted quickly, the gag followed and the key Dirk had slipped him made short work of the door. 

The hall was narrow, lined with cells on both sides. He moved quietly, peering into each one. What sparse patience he had left was melting rapidly with each cell he had to check. 

"Erik? Erik!" 

He stopped, listened closely and ran straight for the last cell in the row. "Marko?" 

"Here." The key worked again and Erik hurried into the damp cell.

"Marko, how'd you know I was out there?" He started undoing the chains, relieved to note that his large companion was some what disheveled but unhurt. 

"This rat just told me there was some strange guy peeking into the cells."

He smiled, "I figured it was about time you were showing up so..." 

"Hi, Erik." 

Erik spun, the knife tight in his hand. He stared for a moment at the slight figure chained to the opposite wall. "Geoffrey! But what..." 

"Me and ol' Jeff been having some great times down here among the rats and bats." 

Erik wasn't listening. "The other prince," he mumbled. He tossed the knife and key to Marko. "Free him then the both of you get out of here." 

"Erik, you're gonna need help." 

"Please, Marko," He said urgently. "For once, just do it." 

Marko started to argue, saw the look on Erik's face, nodded, slapped him on the back. "Go." 

He did. Down corridors that seemed endless, unheeding of the guards who might be around or the dangers of the pits in the dungeon floor. The only thing he thought about was finding Dirk and warning him. He made for the tower chamber, Vector's abode. 

He hit the oak door full tilt, nearly breaking his shoulder. The chamber was poorly lit, which made the glow of the monocle around Vector's neck seem even brighter. Next to Vector stood a tall, black-clad man with sandy blond hair and vaguely familiar features. Dirk lay at their feet, face up, sword still held tight, a blue-glowing dagger buried hilt deep in the right side of his chest. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing harsh. When Erik knelt next to him there was no response, no recognition. 

"So, Erik, you've gotten what you've always wanted. Dirk's death." Vector laughed. 

"Unfortunately you now have to deal with me." The other man said. His sword hissed out of the scabbard. 

Erik snatched the sword from Dirk's hand, not daring to look at him, met the challengers first swing. Erik crouched, blocked two swings, countered with a thrust that was avoided. They paused, studied each other. 

"Very good." The man said silkily. 

He lunged, locked weapons, pressed against Erik. Sparks echoed along the blades. There was a sudden movement from the tall man. Erik pushed away, flinched as a knife cut though his tunic. They smiled at each other. 

"Is that how you took Dirk?" Erik questioned. "There's no blood on your sword." 

"Dear Dirk had gotten to use to fighting fair." 

"You're as bad as Vector." 

"Thank you. He taught me." The man attacked, moving fast. Erik fell back, blocking both knife and sword. Closing he deliberately locked their blades. Grabbing the man's knife hand he pressed it slowly back until he felt the bones creak. The man yelled, dropped the knife. 

Erik moved in attack. The room danced with flashes of power and showering sparks. He forced the tall man back toward the wall. But as he started around Dirk he slipped in the blood pooling on the floor. He went to his knees, his sword dipped down. The man lunged, swinging down at the prince's exposed back. Erik flipped sideways. The sword smashed the stones where he had been. Erik thrust up, blade straight out, took his opponent deep in the side, jerked the sword back out, trailing blood along the floor. 

The man sagged to his knees, glanced in disbelief at Erik then fell slowly,silently forward. Breathing hard Erik stood up and slowly turned to face Vector.

The wizard looked slightly dismayed but hid it behind cynically cocked eyebrows. 

"Well, this would seem to put a slight crimp in my plans." He moved to the dead man. "Poor Jason was a little misled, I fear. He seemed to think that once Dirk was dead I'd make him King of Camarand." 

He toyed with the monocle, smiled as it grew brighter, was answered by a glow from the knife in Dirk's chest. "I suppose I'll have to release Geoffrey and convince him he's the one to be king. Farewell, Erik Greystone." 

Under his breath the wizard mumbled something, the monocle flashed faintly. A drac, tenacles waving menacingly, appeared between them. Erik dropped into a fighting stance. The drac took a step forward, vanished with a foul smelling puff. Vector stared at his monocle in disbelief. 

"Something wrong, Vector?" Erik grated. 

"I think it's time I exercised the better part of valor. Goodbye, Erik."

The cystral blinked. "What..." 

"It's been contaminated, Vector." Erik moved closer. 

"Contaminated?" Vector snickered. "That's absurd. Only good could contaminate the monocle, our nearly departed Dirk is as evil as I."

Erik had moved to kneel beside his love, stared unmoving, the pain too deep to be acknowledged. He slowly raised the sword. Vector laughed. 

"Come now, Erik. We both know you can't kill a wizard with a mortal weapon." 

"Wrong again, Vector." Erik said through clenched teeth. He put his hand to Dirk's side, pulled it away covered with warm blood. Making every move obvious he smeared the crimson over the long blade. The weapon hummed with power. Vector looked puzzled, then realization drained the color from his cheeks. He took a step back. 

"Dirk! And you?" His laughter died in his throat as Erik advanced a step. "Wait! I'm sure we can work something out. I can make you ruler of all Camarand. No!" 

Erik swung with all his might. The blow caught Vector across the chest ripping though cloth, muscle and bone. Shattering crystal. There was the sound of rushing wind and a agonized scream that died before it was born. A bundle of rotting cloth fell to the ground, in the center of which rested a burned out,cracked crystal. 

Behind him there was a deep, harsh moan from Dirk. Erik dropped the sword, went back to kneel beside his prince. With effort Dirk opened his eyes. 

"Erik?" He held up his hand. 

"Here." Taking the hand, holding tight. 

The voice was weak. "Vector? 

"Dead." 

"Jason?" 

"Dead." Erik glanced at the body. "He's your brother, isn't he?" 

"Half." Dirk's eyes slid shut but he smirked. "A kingly indiscretion. Father banished him when he nearly beat me to death with his riding whip." 

As Dirk talked Erik studied the wound. If he removed the blade the bleeding would increase but he didn't like the way it continued to glow. Steading himself with a deep breath he reached for the hilt. 

A surprisingly strong hand gripped his wrist. "No." Erik looked down into fevered ebony eyes. "Don't touch it. Dangerous." 

Erik backed off. "What is it?" 

"Cursed. Drains life." Dirk took a gasping breath, moaned as steel grated against bone. "Don't know what it might to do you." 

"I'm willing to risk it." 

"Not when you know the truth." Dirk swallowed. "It was all a lie." 

Erik waited, knowing that Dirk would not allow him to help until he had said what he felt was so important. He stroked the pale face. "Go on." 

"All a lie," Dirk repeated. "Never lost my memory." 

Leaning down Erik kissed him lightly. "I know." 

Black eyes went wide. "What?" 

Erik wiped the sweat off Dirk's pale face. "I suspected when you wouldn't fight Marko even though you supposedly didn't know him and had just been attacked the night before. Then in the tavern. What I saw in your eyes was the old Dirk I knew so well." 

"Why didn't you say..." 

"I wanted to see what you were up to." He nodded toward the body. "It was to lure him out. You knew all along, didn't you?" 

"Yes." Dirk turned away from the hand on his cheek. "Lure him out. And kill you." 

"But you couldn't," Erik stated, turning Dirk's face back toward him. 

Tears started a slow glide down Dirk's cheeks, ran over Erik's hand washing some of the blood away. Dirk sighed. "Stupid, weak thing to do, fall...like when we were childern, felt right...have someone care..to be..." 

"Loved," Erik whispered. 

"I love you, Erik." 

"I know." 

Dirk smiled weakly, shifting against the pain. "You're safe now. Vector dead, me gone..." 

Blue eyes glittered with tears. The kiss this time was not light. It was deep, desperate and distracting. For just a second Dirk forgot about the pain. Erik pulled the blade free, tears spilling as he did. Dirk stiffened for asecond then went limp under Erik's comforting hands. 

Erik leaned back, smiled. "You plan on going somewhere without me, love?"

He held up the knife, dull and normal now. 

Dirk's eyes widened again. "That was a..good job of distraction." 

He raised a hand toward Erik's face, didn't make it before passing quietly out. Erik kissed him again before starting to tend the wound. 

***** 

"I'm glad that's over," Erik sighed, closed the door firmly behind him.

As

he turned Dirk grabbed him by the hips and began unbuckling the ornate belt. The clasp on Dirk's cape came free with Erik's help and he watched it fall to the ground. "Your father was actually pleased with the way things turned out." 

"How often can you arrange peace between three kingdoms with only two,uh, marriages." Dirk explained logically. 

"True," Erik answered vaguely as he helped Dirk unlace his tunic. "Peace will be nice." 

"Dad's back in charge now." Dirk said a little wistfully. "It's his decision. Personally I find peace boring. Maybe we can find a barbaric horde somewhere to fend off." 

Erik leaned forward, nibbled at one dark nipple. "I'm sure we can find something to keep you busy." 

He pushed Dirk to the bed, tugged the tight high boots off. 

"Pity about Geoffrey," Dirk said as he watched Erik pull his own boots off. The white breeches followed, his half-risen cock swinging free." 

"Ariel's not that bad," Erik allowed generously. He turned to Dirk and peeled off his tights, kissing his way down the inner legs as he did. "Though it is obvious I got the better deal." 

Dirk squirmed impatiently. Together they shifted further up into the

bed. 

"Don't feel too sorry for Jeff," Erik smiled slyly. "He's got a little side interest to keep him happy." 

Dirk was fast losing interest. "Yes?" 

Erik ran a light finger along the almost healed knife wound on his lovers

chest. "How do you feel about commoners and royalty?" 

"What?" Dirk raised up on one elbow, interested. 

"Marko and your brother..." 

"Marko!" Dirk exclaimed. "Marko and Geoffrey?!" 

Erik ignored Dirk's surprised outrage, started a slow, licking circle along Dirk's collarbone. "It seems they had a lot of time to get to know each other in that dungeon." 

"Marko and Geoffrey," Dirk stated again. 

Momentary anger was quickly replaced by thoughtful acceptance that dissolved into hearty laughter. Erik watched a minute before giving himself over to the delight in Dirk's expression. He rolled on top of the other prince, tickled his ribs unmercifully, laughing almost as hard. It was several minutes before they got back to what they were doing.


End file.
